Sonnet at Half Tide
On the bridge’s brow
With the bowing sail
Near the boats rail
White waves round the prow,
Varying as they flow.
Sharp rocks retire
As burning sun’s fire
Tracks unfolding glow
Like bright despair.
On the leeward side
The foaming tide
With vividness so rare
On a long fog-ridden day
Gentles gusts, giving sway
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